Fallen Angels
by Waiting.At.The.End
Summary: And as I watched him dart through the downpour, golden hair spreading out like a halo around him, I could imagine him with wings. Coal-black wings, bound and broken, of a fallen angel condemned to walk this Earth forever. Matt/Mello


_**Fallen Angels**_

A gasp and his nails dug painfully into my back. "Ngh... Matt—" He groaned and arched, pressing against me, blonde hair plastered across his flushed cheeks, green eyes dulled and half-lidded with lust and love. I bent down and placed a kiss on his swollen lips. "Mello, oh. Mello," I moaned, the vibrations making Mello gasp. I slid my tongue into his mouth, savoring his taste, like chocolate and cinnamon, a taste that was purely his.

"Ah! Mail!" Mello screamed and came onto my stomach, smearing both our bodies with his seed to mix with sweat and spit. I followed him over the edge a few moments later, with a quiet moan of, "Mihael..."

And as I laid on top of him, eyes closed and sweating, fingers tangled in his hair, heart breaking with a love so intense, I wished that we could just stay this way forever, and forget that there was a whole world outside of us.

* * *

A thin plume of smoke drifted into the air and disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a faint scent. _Funny, _I thought, smirking at the irony, _That I should choose to die by smoke._ All those years, and I had never stayed in one place for long, committing a few car thefts, winning a few video game tournaments and breaking a few hearts, and then, I was off again. Gone. Without a trace. Vanished, like smoke.

And now I'm leaning against the brick exterior of my new, fucked-up apartment building in L.A., staring up at the starless black sky and listening to cars whiz by. I'd taken it upon myself to leave my two-room apartment whenever I lighted a smoke, fearing that I might worsen the condition of my most recent guest. A bitch of a blonde who managed to blow himself up.

I started back up the stairs, flicking the cigarette over my shoulder and leaving the dying ember to smolder and burn itself out on the cracked, concrete sidewalk. I was greeted by a feeble moan when I pushed open the flimsy piece of wood they called a "door" and moved reluctantly to the one bedroom my apartment harbored.

The room was clothed in shadows, the small, dirty window on the far side of the wall letting in only a dim glow from the bustling city below us. My boots made clomping sounds on the uncarpeted floor, composed of rotting wood, held together by nothing other than hot-glue and prayers.

You might call it _miserable_, and the truth is, it is, but it's cheap and inconspicuous and, hopefully, would shield my most precious individual from Kira's eyes.

"Matt?" A hoarse voice sounded from the darkness and I focused my attention to the far side of the room, at the cot with filthy sheets and blankets, stained with blood and sweat. "Matt?"

I sighed and walked over to Mello, who lay with his eyes, or rather, eye closed. The entire left of his face was swathed clumsily in tattered bandages. "I'm here..." I murmured softly.

In the dim room, illuminated only by the bright lights of the city that lay below us, I could see Mello nod weakly. God, I hated seeing him so delicate, so vulnerable and so defenseless. Mello had always been the leader, the strong one, the daring one. I was the one that followed him, who attended to his every beck and call, who took all the flying fists for him.

He hadn't thanked me then, and he wouldn't thank me now. But I knew that neither of us would have it any other way.

Four years of pent-up emotion came bubbling up to the surface. Fear, rage and the sting of being left behind. But most of all, the regret of not being by my friend's side. Of all the time lost. I wanted to punch him, to yell and bitch at him... To slip into the bed beside him and press up against that warm body and to stay there forever. And to just forget all the nightmares I've lived. We've both lived.

"Damn you, Mello," I chocked out, voice clogged and heavy with emotion. I felt so unbelievably stupid to let my feelings get the best of me. I'd never, never even come near to shedding a tear since he left. I wasn't going to start now. It went against everything I was taught. But I let myself fall for him. Daring Mello, rebellious Mello, independent Mello. He couldn't,—shouldn't—be bound, yet there was one thing that bound him. I should have expected the fall to come. And the truth was, I did, but—

"You fucking son of a bitch! What gave you the right to leave me behind?! What gave you the right to think that you could just forget me?!" _That I would just forget you..._ _I don't want to hold you down. I don't want to keep you prisoner... But I want you to take me with you... Wherever you go. To the ends of the Earth, to heaven, to hell. I don't give a shit. I'll follow you anywhere. You mean more to me than my life... Than my soul. And you know that._

"You and your fucking ego and being number-fucking-one!" _Don't I mean more to you than that? _"Damn you!"

Mello cracked open his eye, green and piercing and surprisingly sharp, despite all the morphine he had taken to dull the pain of horrific, third-degree burns. "Matt..." he began, but trailed off and didn't continue. Just kept staring at me with that gaze of his. So forlorn and lost. So goddamn perfect.

I knew what he was trying to say. So I nodded and walked out of the room.

* * *

We were running through the open field of the orphanage, laughing and chasing a football. Mello kicked it a bit too hard and it flew into the woods in a blur of black and white. We stared after it for a bit, then Mello grinned. "Race you to it."

"You bet," I replied before sprinting off in the direction the ball had been kicked. I spotted it first, laying in a bunch of autumn leaves and I dived for it, but Mello tackled me from behind and we rolled across the ground, wrestling and laughing.

We were almost acting like normal kids, having fun rolling around in the fallen leaves. Almost. But somewhere in our minds, no matter how much we tried to push it away, the thought was still there, the reality that we'd never harbor the innocence that other children had. We never got the chance.

It lingered there, in the shadows, stalking us. Haunting us.

I gave up after a while and we stopped grappling to simply lay in the grass, side by side, close enough to feel the other's warmth, the sleeves of our shirts brushing. Stripes mixing with solid black.

We stared up at the sky, going gray with English rains. But we didn't move, just lay there, looking up at the bare branches of the trees and at the leaves that fell sadly to the ground. A flock of geese flew by, in a neat _V _formation, escaping that cold weather that was bound to hit us, and running away to the warm.

Mello broke the silence first, voice full of yearning. "What would it be like," he asked softly, "To fly?"

I didn't know the answer, so I didn't speak, but he didn't seem to notice. He reached out with his hand, fingers spread, as if grasping for something that slipped right out. Like innocence, like freedom, like hope. So I reached out too, and grasped his hand in mine, lacing my fingers through his, so that we were both reaching for something that was impossible to reach. Mello let his head fall towards me, blonde hair spilling onto his cheeks, and he smiled. One of those rare, genuine ones he'd only give me. The smile that lit up his eyes and made him more beautiful than he already was.

I tightened my hand around his, feeling the clamminess of his touch, and flashed one of my own smiles in return. It began to rain then, little, tiny droplets, and one landed on our entwined hands. Slowly, we lowered them and clasped them together when they brushed the dry grass beneath us.

"It's raining," Mello murmured, staring up at the sky.

I nodded. "We should go before it gets too heavy."

But neither of us moved. Not until the downpour started and our clothes had gotten soaked thoroughly and our hair was plastered to our scalps. Then, we finally separated our hands and stood up.

"Let's go," Mello said, and took off into the trees. He didn't look to see if I would follow. Because he knew I always would. I ran after him, like the dog I had always been, and always will be, to him.

At times like this, I liked the rain. When the water dripped down my forehead and blurred the films of my orange goggles, distorting the world. That's when I felt I could really understand it. Because we, Mello and I, we lived in another plane, where everything was not what it seemed. And an enemy could be a friend and a friend could betray with a snap of the fingers. You couldn't trust anybody. I knew that, and yet...

The rain kept falling, but I didn't feel cold. Because Mello was running in front of me, but I knew he'd be waiting for me at the end of the line.

And as I watched him dart through the downpour, golden hair spreading out like a halo around him, I could imagine him with wings. Coal-black wings, bound and broken, of a fallen angel condemned to walk this Earth forever.

* * *

Mello was slouching back on the couch, a bar of chocolate hanging out of his mouth as he stared, unblinking, at the monitors. The images were that of Amane Misa, a twenty-one year-old blonde model, as she chattered excitedly to her bodyguard, a large man by the name of Mogi who worked for the Japanese Police Force on the Kira Case.

Mello seemed to harbor suspicions about her being the second Kira, but, to me, she seemed just plain dumb. All she had talked about was shopping and her popularity among her fans. I gave myself five more minutes before I put a few bullets into the TV.

But Mello beat me to exploding. "Goddammit! Can't that fucking bitch talk about anything else?!" He leaped off of the couch and paced around the cluttered room in an irritated gesture. Like a caged animal. "How the fuck can _she _be the second Kira?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "If you don't think she is, why do you keep watching her?"

Mello started to reply, but shut his mouth and almost blushed. And I couldn't help but think that he was cute, despite the scar that covered about half his face. After weeks of staying by his side twenty-four seven, I still haven't gotten used to it.

Not that it made him ugly... He was just changed. Matured and suffered through times that I wish I could have suffered through with him. It just seemed like too much of a reminder of the years we've spent apart.

But what pained me most is the knowledge that, whenever Mello looked into the mirror, he'd see the evidence of his failure etched forever into his features.

"Near thought she might be," Mello admitted in a low voice, and I laughed. He was always sensitive on acknowledging that his rival could be correct.

Mello growled and sank back into the couch with an annoying creak of its springs. I could tell that he'd like to punch me in the face and that just made my smile widen. How masochistic could you get?

"Well, he's probably wrong this time," Mello declared, raising his chin in defiance.

I glanced at the screen once again and noticed that Misa was now talking about a fiancé. I rolled my eyes. There was no way she had the brains to be the second Kira.

Mello sighed and stood up again, taking a bite out of his chocolate bar. "I'm going out," he told me as he swept up his coat, "Watch her."

I opened my mouth to protest, but I knew that my complaints wouldn't do anything except for anger the blonde, so I just looked away and nodded. "Go ahead," I muttered.

But I worried. I worried about Mello running off again. I worried about what he did while he was out. Did he put himself in danger? Who did he associate with? I wondered every time. He'd gone out before, I had done nothing to stop him, and he'd always come back late at night, exhausted enough to fall right into the bed and sleep until well into the morning the next day. He'd wake with a hangover and, even though he tried to hide it, I noticed that he'd favor his ass every time he sat down on the couch.

There was no need for him to tell me what he did all those nights. I knew. And, fuck, if that didn't hurt, I don't know what the hell would. And yet I still worry. Mello's like the monsoon season. You know what's going to come, but you don't know when it will. And it causes damages like fuck everytime.

There was a pause and then I heard the door open and shut. I knew that Mello had left and I was left alone again. I slumped onto the couch, turning off all the monitors, knowing that I'd probably get socked in the face later on, and sat still, then dropped my head into my hands and silently cursed myself. For everything. For my incompetence, for letting him go fuck every other son of a bitch out there. And I cursed myself for not simply telling him that I loved him. What was I afraid of?

The silence was oppressive, so I lighted a cigarette and took a deep breath, feeling its poison travel through my veins.

* * *

Rain. This time I couldn't find consolation in its soft pitter-patter, in the beads that dripped off the ends of my hair and splattered on the ground. I shivered. Hell if it wasn't cold. I felt it, yeah, but it was nothing compared to the fucking icicle sticking out of my chest. It hurt like a bitch, but it numbed the wound as well.

"Mello..." I moaned. I gripped the slick bars of the old-fashioned orphanage gate and shouted through the bars, "You little mother-fucking asshole cunt!" I shouted every curse I knew, in every language, but they grew quieter and quieter, until the words stuck in my throat as I tried to fight back the tears that threatened to fall.

I couldn't believe it. Okay, screw that. I _could _believe it. But I didn't want to. Why would I want to believe that my friend, my _only_ friend had left me, to pursue the killer of the one man we'd ever respected and looked up to?

"Why couldn't you take me with you?" I slid down the wet bars and felt my knees meet the muddy ground. I tore my goggles off my face and tried again, desperately, vainly, to try to peer through the downpour to glimpse that golden hair. But I couldn't see through the film of tears that blurred my vision.

I let out a shaky sigh. It came out muffled and stuffy, barely making it past the clump of emotion in my throat. I turned around and slumped against the gate, feeling the cold metal digging into my back. Strangely, it felt good. It was wet and stingingly cold, but it was something that wouldn't disappear. Although I wouldn't mind too much if the ground decided to swallow me up.

I tilted my head to stare at the sky. There weren't any stars tonight. The sky was pitch black, like ink. Just as well. But I'd bet that it couldn't rival the darkness swirling inside me. The despair was horrible. On second thought, it would probably swallow me before the ground would. A swirling monster, so fucking poisonous, I could feel it wrapping around me, prepared to claim me as one of its own. And I wasn't sure if I wanted to fight it.

Someone must've brought me inside, back into the orphanage. I don't remember. I just knew that somehow, I found myself in bed, changed into more comfortable clothes after taking a shower. But I was wondering how Mello was dealing with the rain.

I hoped that he'd catch pneumonia and die. And after that, I'd be following right after him. To heaven or hell or wherever dead people go. At least then, we'd be together again.

Right now, I didn't give a shit about L or about Kira, I just wanted Mello in that empty bed across the room, reading some 600 page-or-so philosophical babble, so I could yell at him to turn the lights off and go to sleep. But of course, he'd just tell me to shut up and throw a pillow at me.

_Mello, what do you want to do when you get out of here?_

_I'm gonna be the next L, of course._

_... Okay._

_You'll come with me._

_Yeah._

Alone, in the dark, I couldn't hold it in. I let the tears fall, feeling them slide off my face.

"Big, fucking liar."

* * *

I was passed out on the couch when I heard the door creak open, then close. "Mmf," I let out a muffled moan before I tumbled off the couch and landed on the floor.

"Heh. Don't be so clumsy, Matt."

Mello's voice came from somewhere in the darkness, slurred. I climbed back on the couch. "You got yourself drunk again, didn't you?" I asked. The disdain was evident. I hated it when he got like this. Drunk and disoriented, the next morning without a recollection as to how he'd spent the night prior. Hell, it was a miracle that he could even get back.

Another drunken chuckle, but warm air blew across my neck and I had to swallow a surprised breath. When had he gotten behind me?

Mello's arms slunk around my shoulders as he leaned down to rest his head on my shoulder. He was more drunk than usual.

"Mello, get off me."

"Aw... C'mon. You've got to admit that you like it, hm?" he whispered, trailing his tongue up my neck.

I almost moaned, but shut my mouth and held it back. I couldn't breathe and the room blurred before my eyes. The air felt too heavy and I could smell the alcohol in Mello's breath.

"Get off of me!" I yelled and flung his arms off my neck, shoving him back. "You're just drunk!"

I shot up from my seated position and, in what I could make out in the dim room, Mello looked resigned as he collapsed to the ground. A few moments of tense silence passed and I finally stalked towards the bedroom, intending to take the bed for the night. On the way over, I thought I heard a small whisper of "Yeah, guess I am."

* * *

I remembered the day I promised Mello my life. We couldn't have been much older than eleven or twelve. Yet we knew so much others didn't know.

We were in our room. Mello at the desk, bent over his textbooks, and I was laying on my bed, fingers tapping away at my video game. It was a typical scene for us. Me, lazing around, Mello, slaving away to surpass Near.

He spoke first. I never knew what made him ask me such a question, but he dropped his pencil and swiveled around in the chair to face me. I wasn't looking at him, engrossed with destroying a zombie that popped out of nowhere.

He waited for me to notice him. Eventually, I did and I paused my game and dropped it on the bed. I sat up, looked at him. He just kept staring at me for a while, and I returned his stare.

"Matt," he began, but didn't continue. Was he nervous?

"You know you can ask me anything." As if he needed reassurance.

Mello sighed, but finally finished what he'd begun to say, "What would you do with my life?"

I didn't answer. I didn't think I'd do anything with it. Mello was the one that did stuff, I was the one that followed his orders. "I'd give it back to you," I told him bluntly.

He laughed, throwing his head back, but it wasn't happy. "Seriously, Matt," he said, once he'd clamed down, eyeing me, "What would to do with it."

I sighed. He wanted a serious answer. Great. Being serious was my specialty, now, wasn't it? I thought for quite a long time and Mello didn't cut in like he usually did. Finally, I told him, "I'd keep it safe, Mello. And I'll throw it away when you throw mine away."

Just like that, we promised our lives to each other.

* * *

I let my head fall onto the back of the couch and paused the game I held in my hand. I didn't have any idea what it was. I just grabbed the closest thing to me to keep my mind off Mello. And last night.

He was gone when I woke up this morning. I was concerned. Not like I'd expect him to be considerate enough to leave a note for me or anything, but still... Especially after what had happened, I worried that he'd left me again. An unbearable thought. I reassured myself with the thought that he was out trailing Misa again, but it was late now...

What time was it? One, two in the morning? Our apartment housed no working clocks, I could only guess by the weariness I felt and the creeping feeling that Mello had left again. I did my best to ignore it, but as the hours passed, I felt my stomach knot. "Dammit, where the hell are you?" I asked the darkness.

I must've been half-conscious when the door opened. I knew it had been Mello right away, but he didn't see me until I sat up from my sprawling position on the couch. "Matt?" he sounded surprised.

I wasn't really angry before, but the surprise in his voice did it for me. I smirked. "What? You didn't expect me to worry?" I sat up and looked over the back of the couch so that my eyes could meet his. "Didn't expect me to sit up to wait for you?" _Even after you've known me for so long?_

I sneered, stood up and walked over to him. Mello took a step back, defensive, but I was pissed and I kept advancing. "Matt..." his voice was softer, less confident.

I pinned him to the wall and leaned in, close enough so that his hair brushed my face and our breaths mingled. "Did you think I didn't care?"

He looked away and didn't say anything for a while. "I know you care," he began quietly, "That's why I can't..."

"Just because of yesterday?" I asked, challenging, pressing him further into the wall. We were touching now. My body pressed against his, his hands on my shoulders as if to shove me away, fingers digging into my flesh.

He didn't answer. He thought that he'd made a huge mistake yesterday. That he'd fucked-up our entire relationship. _Damn you... You know I wouldn't abandon you just because of something so stupid._

"You still don't know me." I wasn't yelling anymore, but said it quietly with a sort of half-smile.

Mello seemed to relax. His fingers loosened. "That was always your job, Matt. You're the one that listens to my rants, the one that stays behind me. Always. It was always your job to know everything that went through my mind."

And his was the one to chase after illusions, to step on and over people, without giving a shit of what became of them. It was his job to destroy. But it had always been ours to fail.

But maybe, this one thing can work out.

I pressed my lips to his.

And I didn't pull away for a long, long time.

When I did, Mello lowered his eyes, so I lifted a hand to his chin and made him look at me. Made the green meet the blue.

"I love you."

I wondered if the words were supposed to stick to your throat and refuse to come out, or if it felt right, like you knew that this was the thing to do. But for me, it felt like freedom. As I gave myself to him, the chains that bound me for as long as I could remember, lifted. It had been Mello all along, hadn't it?

Mello's eyes widened. And he didn't say anything. Then, his shoulders slumped and he turned to look at the floor.

"Me too," he whispered. He raised his eyes to meet mine. "I love you," he said it easily, the words flowing out of his lips and despite everything that had happened, is happening and will happen, I felt ridiculously... Happy? There wasn't a word to describe it. I felt happy and relieved and so fucking... Good.

I wrapped my arms around his slim frame and buried my head in the crook of his neck. I felt his naked arms slip hesitantly around my waist.

"Are you scared?" I asked.

"... Terrified."

I knew that beyond his sheen of golden hair, he was smiling. A little bitter and a little thankful. He knew that those simple words changed everything. I'd given him my heart and he'd given me mine. Just like we did that exchange years ago; when I'd given him my life and he'd given me his.

"Why is this so important?" he whispered, twisting his head so that our gazes met. "Other things... Should take precedence." Like survival, like rivalry, like vengeance.

"Because we're stronger, Mello. And we're real."

* * *

I've been living on my own for quite a while now. I got out of Whammy's House as quickly as I could. Besides, we were useless now. L was dead and Near was his substitute. And the rest of us? Just copies. A useless attempt to try and recreate the best detective that ever lived.

I had nothing to tie me to Whammy's anyhow. Mello was gone. L was dead. What was I supposed to do? Well, I've never quite been the one to stay bound at one place anyhow. The only thing I was bound to was Mello. And he'd cut the binds and left me behind. Well, I suppose that was that. I hated him for it. But I knew he'd come find me someday, so I've never gone anywhere he wouldn't be able to find me.

My relationship with Mello was simple. I was the dog and he was my master. I obeyed him and only him. He came back to me and only me. And neither of us would die before then. It wasn't complicated. We were just two people, bound with a promise that neither of us would break. We didn't want to.

I leaned forward on the bar stool, propping my elbows on the counter trying not to think about what liquids had left the stains on the wood. Maybe it would be better than thinking about Mello.

_Fuck it, _I thought as my drink was finally placed in front of me. I'd forget that blonde son of a bitch for now. I swigged my drink down quick. It burned my throat, and my eyes stung and watered a bit. But I kept the glass tilted and refilled it again and again.

I landed in this bar out in the outskirts of Los Angeles quite simply because I felt like getting drunk tonight, and maybe pick up one of those whores wandering around all the time. This is a routine I did often, whenever I got bored or simply wanted to... Drift. Yes, a one-night stand I'd remember nothing of once I woke tomorrow.

It was better than falling in love. Better than remembering.

Because if I could, God knows I'd forget it all.

"Hey there, Goggles" a husky purr by my ear pulled me out of my drunken thoughts as I turned to look at the brunette who'd taken a seat at the stool beside me. She was leaning forward, barely clothed in a tight tank top and short leather skirt, intentionally giving me a _very_ nice view of her assets.

I smirked, taking the last swig of my drink, then setting the glass down on the table, not very delicately, and lighted a cigarette. Putting it into my mouth, I inhaled and exhaled, the smoke drifted through my parted lips. I stood up, offered her a hand, "Care to dance?"

It was halfway through the second song when I happened to glance around the bar to catch a glimpse of gold hair. And, like every time that happened, my heart sped up, expecting to see Mello. But I squandered that hope quickly, and turned my head away. Because like every other time I looked, it wouldn't be him. And yet... "I'm going to get another drink," I said before I left the horny bitch in the middle of the dance floor, where she'd be picked up just as quickly by another man who would most likely be cheating on his wife.

Someone came up behind me just as I sat down. Somehow, I knew it wasn't the girl I ditched in the middle of our dance. A light pressure on my shoulder, and I turned to meet a pair of brilliant green eyes. "Hey, Mel."

* * *

I woke up the next morning feeling very good. Relaxed and just... Accomplished. Although that might be because of the fact that I'd just spent an excellent night fucking my best-friend-turned-lover, who would be waking up feeling a lot worse; most likely with a hangover the size of Alaska.

But he was still asleep now, and I could deal with his bitching later (which I knew would, inevitably, manifest itself). At the moment, I'd enjoy the silence and the peaceful look on Mello's face, which was usually pulled into a permanent frown. Watching him like this, he seemed like just another boy on the verge of becoming a man. Unmarred by the cruelty of the world.

I couldn't resist not touching him. So I reached out and brought his face closer, not caring whether or not I woke him, and placed a kiss on his lips. "God, Mello. Why can't we just stay like this forever?"

* * *

"We're going to kidnap Takada."

"Eh?" I looked up from my videogame, not bothering to hit pause, and my little guy got slashed to pieces. But I was too busy trying to decipher the complete idiocy of the words Mello just mouthed to notice. "Kidnap her?" I finally repeated.

He nodded, and didn't say anything else.

I kept staring at him, then I sighed, closed my eyes and leaned against the back of the couch. "This... Is suicide, isn't it?," I told him. I didn't see his response, but I was fairly certain that he didn't give one. Because he knew that I already knew the answer.

"So..." I asked. "What's the plan?"

* * *

And we're standing outside our apartment, three days later. Mello's got his motorcycle, and I'm about to get my car. But right now, we're just standing, staring at the blue sky with it's cottony wisps of clouds, because we know perfectly well that this might be our last time to see it. To see each other. And it was just a moment of... Nothing but us. I'm leaning against the wall with a cigarette dangling out of my mouth, and Mello is satisfying his un-satisfyable appetite for chocolate. And I guess we were just waiting for time to catch up with us.

For the longest time, neither of us did anything, until I finally took the alternative. I plucked the smoke from my lips, and reached out, grabbing Mello's hair. And I pulled him to me, pulled him in, and sealed our lips together with a kiss. It wasn't gentle. We pressed against each other with desperation, tongues probing, fingers grasping and tugging.

When we finally pulled away, we were panting, faces flushed, but I could still taste chocolate on my lips. I could taste Mello. When I looked up at him again, he smiled at me. He looked sad. Like he'd known too much of things he'd rather not have known. But then again, didn't we all?

"I'll go to hell, Matt."

I shrugged, took the last drag of my cigarette and let it fall from my fingers. It landed on the cracked cement, a thin trace of smoke floating from its tip, still glowing a bit red. The ashes scattered as the winter wind blew past, swirling at our feet. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

"It doesn't matter," I said after a pause, lifting my head to watch the sky as slight clouds traveled lazily across the expanse. "Doesn't matter. 'Cause I'll be burning right next to you."

A pause.

"I'll be waiting for you," Mello whispered softly. He didn't say where.

"I'll be expecting you." I didn't either.

It wasn't necessary. Because we were hanging by the same noose, shot by the same gun, bound by a promise—

_How do you want to die?_

_... Together._

—Never uttered out loud.


End file.
